The Boy Who Lived
by shorinai
Summary: Draco thinks about what Harry means to him. NOT Slash, fairly Canon. Draco POV vignette.


  
Here's a vignette from Draco's POV. His subject? Why, Harry Potter, of course!

There's a Challenge at the bottom!

Warnings:  
Slight angst on Draco's part, but nothing major. I'm not even sure if it's worth mentioning.  
Spoilers: nothing explicit. Mention of one action near the beginning of the first book, and also of Lucius' less... scrupulous dealings.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Universe do not belong to me, I'm making no money whatsoever from this story. I'll leave that to the people who actually _own_ the rights to Harry Potter. ::sigh::

Author: Shorinai (shorinai@yahoo.com)  
Archived: FFN, others: ask first (send me the URL of the site) and I'll probably say 'yes'.   
  
  
  


**The Boy Who Lived**

  
  
  
I have an obsession.

I will be the first to admit that particular failing of mine, though I will likely be the only one to admit the true nature of it. I am not alone in this failing; though he will deny it strongly if told that the world revolves around him, there is little doubt that so much of the Wizarding World actually _does._ More of it than even most of us magic peoples suspect, I'd say. Almost all of those who practice the Dark Arts, certainly all of those who are sworn to Lord Voldermort, have cause to hate him and to plot his downfall. Though if Lord Voldermort got wind of those plots he might well do away with the plotter. After all, if He is not the one to do away with The Boy Who Lived, He may be seen as weak, and Dark Art practitioners despise weakness almost as much as they respect power. It could sow the seed of doubt that would grow into His own downfall.

I, myself, plot against Harry Potter with a vengeance--with the direction of my father and the approval of Lord Voldermort, of course. Should any of my own schemes come to fruition, all the credit would go directly to Him and any blame would fall squarely upon my shoulders. That does not matter; I am determined not to fail. Somehow, _I_ will be the one to orchestrate his destruction. _Me._

I told you I was obsessed.

It's not for the reasons you think, really. It didn't have to be Harry Potter. It could have been that poor excuse for a git Weasely, or that mudblood Granger. It could have been anyone, so long as it was The One Who Lived. I hate him. Not because it was him who rendered Lord Voldermort a wraith for the last decade, not because he was declared a Family Enemy (there's an actual list, and though Potter's not at the top he's close to it), not even because the first thing he did to me was refuse my friendship. No, I hate him because my father hates him.

It's more personal than it sounds, I assure you. Yes, I grew up hearing my father speak of his hate for Potter, of the many different and painful demises the Boy Who Lived deserved, of the pleasure it would bring Lord Voldermort and the subsequent power it would bring our family, but that is not how I learned this hate. My hate is a more personal one. My father always speaks of Potter with hate, with venom in his voice and fire in his eyes and an unconscious and barely-controlled power in his movements.

Never have I inspired such emotion in him. Oh, he acknowledges me more than the servants, and even my mother. The former he only pays attention to when they've done something to displease him, the latter only when he has to--rarely more than thrice a year. Sometimes he watches me when we're in the same room, asks me to do something in his quiet and calm voice. My father never raises a hand to me in anger, only rarely does he touch me at all. When he's upset with me, he writes me a letter: what I did wrong and what my punishment would be, which I would have to see to myself. My life is always put on hold until I've finished my punishment--none of my needs would be seen to by another and to see to them myself would earn me another punishment. Once, I put off the punishing for three days. For that, I was punished for a month.

There is nothing I would not do to see something in my father's eyes for me besides mere tolerance, even if it was hate for befriending the one who would be my worst enemy.

If I can't have anything from my father while Potter is alive, I will have to see how that changes when The Boy Who Lived is dead. Maybe then I will have what is rightfully mine.   
  
  


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That was the vignette, now here's the Challenge! ^_^

This has always felt like the first chapter of a fic instead of a stand-alone to me. Your Challenge, Author, should you choose to accept it, is to write the rest of the fic. (This has been sitting on my hard drive for months waiting for the rest of the plot to come to me, but alas, my plot bunnies have abandoned this idea. If none of you choose to write it, it shall very likely remain in this sadly singular state.) Should you choose to accept this challenge, I would like the name and location(s) of where you're posting it, please.

This Challenge will _not_ self-destruct in five seconds. However, if you're still on this page by that time, it _may_ start whining at you to finish it. ^_~  
  
  
  
R&R!

Shorinai  



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